Paradise Falls (13 page)

Pleased that she’d managed to coax him to follow the rules, her smile widened. “Let’s begin by learning the name of our President, Benjamin Harrison.” She’d written his name on the top of the slate, and asked Edmer to hold it up so they could all see. “It’s a very long name, but one that I believe each of you should master. A very wise man once told me that if we are to be good citizens of this great country, it is important that we know the name of the man who is its leader.”

While each of her students struggled to complete their assignment, she gave a little sigh of relief. It would seem that she’d managed to avoid a confrontation, at least for the moment. But though young Master Rudd had given up this particular battle, she doubted he was ready to forget the war.

* * *

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Dorf.” Fiona offered her hand, and watched as the old peddler carefully wiped his hands on his shirt before doing the same.

After accepting her invitation to bring his wagon to school, he had graciously permitted each of the students to crawl around inside to see where he and Luther slept, and how they stored so many fascinating items within such a confining space.

Fiona had been pleasantly surprised to find all of her students in attendance. Perhaps out of curiosity, or perhaps because they didn’t really consider this peddler’s wagon a classroom, not one student was missing on this day.

To thank Frederick Dorf for opening up his home to them, Fiona had brought enough lunch to include the old man and his grandson. It had taken a great deal of persuasion before Rose Haydn had agreed to the extra food. But, as Fiona had been quick to point out, if Frederick Dorf was as poor as the others believed, it was the least she could do to make up for the inconvenience of taking him and his grandson away from the trail, where they would have been earning some money.

Rose had been outspoken in her protest. “I don’t see what good this visit will do. What can children possibly learn from such a man?”

“They look down on him because he earns his living as a peddler.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “And why not? It’s a sad, dirty way of life.”

Fiona arched a brow. “Have you been inside his wagon?”

The older woman gave a quick shake of her head. “Nor would I want to. Why, do you know that before his wife died, she lived in that smelly, dirty cart, traveling all around the countryside with her man. And now an orphaned grandson. Why should any of us go near it?”

“Because Mr. Dorf provides all of us with his services. Without him, who would sharpen our knives or brings us the bits of ribbon and lace we use to brighten our lives? Gray told me that in the past year alone, Mr. Dorf was responsible for introducing him to a new winter wheat being grown by the farmers in Little Bavaria, and a newer, stronger hitch for the team. Without a peddler, who would sell you the special meats and cheeses he brings from other towns?”

Rose had turned away, unable to come up with an argument.

Fiona wondered what the parents would say when their children reported that the wagon, though small and cramped, had been spotlessly clean, and that every knife, every pair of scissors, every bit of string and twine and ribbon, had been carefully stored in its proper place. Perhaps, she thought, it wouldn’t make any difference to most of them, but it had already made a difference to one sad, lonely little boy, who had been allowed, for this precious day, to share his life with his new friends.

Frederick Dorf’s words broke through her thoughts. “You will thank Mrs. Haydn for the fine cheese and the strudel?”

“I will.” Fiona turned to the children. “What do you have to say to Mr. Dorf?”

“Thank you, Mr. Dorf,” they called in unison as they’d been coached before his arrival.

As the old man helped his grandson into the back of his wagon, Fiona saw the pleasure and pride in young Luther’s eyes and remembered again why she’d invited his grandfather here. These children had seen, not a poor, dirty peddler as expected, but a small, neat wagon in which an old man and a little boy were managing, to the best of their ability, to make a home together.

When her students were gone, Fiona glanced skyward and seeing the sun already slipping below the horizon, started toward the Haydn farm. After that generous lunch for Mr. Dorf and his grandson, Fiona would hate to incur Rose’s wrath by being late for supper, since it seemed to be a particular issue with the older woman.

* * *

A week later the students were gathered around Gray as he whittled on a block of wood.

It had taken all Fiona’s powers of persuasion to get the shy farmer to consent to visit her school. At first he’d been ill at ease while the children pulled their desks in a circle. Now, as his fingers worked their magic, he forgot his nerves.

“What will it be?” Siegfried Gunther asked..

“I’m not sure yet.” Gray kept turning the wood, whittling a bit, then turning it more. “The wood has to let me know what will suit it.”

“You mean it talks to you?” This from Edmer Rudd.

“In a manner of speaking. The wood itself decides what is best. Some wood is delicate, and might become a flower or tree. Another piece might be round, and will become someone’s face. Or the grain of the wood might be more suitable for an animal.” He smiled as he began to see what would work. “I think this will be a great black bear.”

The children fell silent as the wood began to take shape before their eyes. After carving the outline of a bear, Gray made a few cuts and whittled a head, eyes, ears. Then he made softer strokes with his knife that looked exactly like fur.

Now the children were so caught up in his skill, and watched with such intensity, Fiona stood back with a smile. This was all that she had hoped for. It was what teaching was all about. That magic moment when a student sees all the possibilities.

At last Gray held up the wood carving. “Well? What do you think?”

“It really is a bear.” Afton’s words brought nods from the others.

“Would you like it?” Gray held it out to the little girl, who eagerly accepted it.

When he tucked away his knife and got to his feet, Fiona hurried over. “What do we have to say to Mr. Haydn, children?”

They replied in a singsong chorus, “Thank you, Mr. Haydn.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned at Fiona as she escorted him to the door.

“You see?” She stepped out onto the porch. “That didn’t hurt a bit, did it?”

“Not at all.” He met her eyes. “You’re good with them.”

“So are you. Thank you, Gray, for sharing your special talent with my students.”

He seemed about to say something more, but instead turned away and walked to his wagon, where Chester sat patiently waiting.

He found himself smiling as he flicked the reins and returned to the fields.

* * *

“Rain’s coming.” Broderick was sprawled in the back of the wagon beside Fiona, as the family made its way to Sunday services. Despite the occasional break in the clouds, showing rare bursts of sunlight, Fiona was grateful for the warmth of the blanket tucked around her. The air had a bite to it, warning of what was to come.

The hills around them seemed on fire with leaves of red and gold and yellow, and a heavy layer of frost already glinted on the ground.

Fiona swiveled her head, doing her best to drink it all in. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful as this.”

Beside her Broderick blinked one eye, while the other stared without seeing. “Don’t let it fool you. This land is a woman.”

She turned to him with a questioning look.

“So lovely she takes your breath away.” He seemed to gather his thoughts before adding, “Then, just when you’ve lost your heart, she shows her true face.”

Fiona knew that the rest of the family couldn’t hear above the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves and the wheels of the wagon as they rolled over the deeply rutted road. “And what would that true face be?”

“A cruel beauty. A harsh mistress, demanding all. Giving little.”

“I think, despite your words, you love this land, Mr. Haydn.”

“God help me, I do.” He nodded. “But a word of warning, Miss Downey. Never trust her. When she seems the most beautiful, when you think she could never be lovelier, that’s when you must be wary. For she can turn on you and take everything, even your life.”

Fiona thought about the story of his sister and shivered. “I’ll remember.”

She felt the pull of the team against the harness. “I hope we have no more broken axles.”

“It wasn’t broken.” Broderick looked up at the golden leaves above his head. “Gray said it was cut.”

“Cut? Why would anyone cut an axle?”

The older man shrugged. “Why indeed? Who would benefit from such an act?”

She tried to remember back to the day, but so much had happened since then, it was impossible. She turned to study Gray and his mother and brother, seated on the front seat of the wagon. Did one of them have an enemy?

Before she could ponder such a thing, their wagon rolled to a stop outside the church. Fiona climbed out and shook down her skirts, while Gray lifted his father and steadied him on his feet. As always, Rose and Flem walked ahead, enjoying the attention of their friends and neighbors, while Gray and Broderick chose to remain in their shadow.

Fiona trailed slowly behind. Now that she’d become familiar with the townspeople, it seemed only natural to pause and smile or whisper a greeting to her students and their parents as she made her way to the Haydn pew at the very front of the church. Though it didn’t actually have the Haydn name carved on it, Fiona had never seen anyone else sitting there. As though, she mused, there was an unspoken agreement that this was theirs alone. Was this why Gerhardt Shultz had called them one of the finest families in Paradise Falls? Were they being judged by their loyal attendance at Sunday services? Or had it once been enjoyed by others in their family who were now gone?

Flem stepped out of the pew and waited for her to take her seat before sliding in beside her. She glanced over to see Gray at the far end, with his father beside him, and Rose next to her husband. Gray caught her eye and just as quickly looked away, but not before she saw the slight flush on his cheeks.

As they stood and began the opening hymn, Fiona felt a strange tingling at the back of her neck. As though someone had touched her. She ignored the feeling as she matched her voice to Flem’s rich tenor. After two more hymns, the congregation settled down to one of Reverend Schmidt’s more notable sermons on the need to bend one’s will to that of their Creator. As his words rolled over the assembly, Fiona glanced at Rose and saw the frown line between her brows, a sure sign that she disapproved of the preacher’s topic. Fiona stifled a smile. Rose Haydn didn’t seem the type to bend her will to anyone, include the Almighty.

An hour later, as they got to their feet for the closing hymn, Fiona felt the tingle once more. As soon as the congregation began to leave, she glanced around and saw, two rows behind her, Edmer Rudd. Beside him stood a man who could only be his father. Taller by a head, muscles sculpted from years of farm work, this man had the same blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. Eyes that were staring holes through her. Beside him was a tall, pretty woman with pale hair pulled into a prim knot and topped with a simple bonnet.

Fiona felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she followed the Haydn family down the aisle. She was aware that Edmer and his parents were walking directly behind her.

When they stepped outside, Gray hurried away to help his father into the back of the wagon, while Rose and Flem moved on to visit with neighbors.

Fiona paused at the bottom of the church steps and extended her hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Rudd. I am Fiona Downey, your son’s teacher.”

The woman started to extend her hand, then glanced shyly at her husband’s scowling face before lowering her hand to her side.

“I know who you are.” The man’s voice was as chilling as his eyes. “My son has told me all about you.”

Out of the corner of her eye Fiona could see people pause to watch and listen. She extended her hand to his son. “Good morning, Edmer.”

Before the boy could acknowledge her greeting his father cuffed him on the side of the head, knocking him backward several paces before the boy managed to gain his footing.

When several boys nearby began to laugh nervously, Edmer turned on them with a scowl, his fists raised. “Are you laughing at me?”

The boys quickly disappeared behind their parents, who stared in openmouthed surprise.

Throughout this exchange, the boy’s mother glanced nervously around, then stepped back, as though eager to get out of the path of her husband’s fury.

Fiona thought to do the same, hoping to avoid any further embarrassment, but Christian Rudd’s words stopped her. “We’re farmers here. Simple people with simple needs. Knowing the president’s name won’t put food on our table. We don’t need a slip of a girl without a brain in her head inviting a peddler to school and pretending he’s worthy of our respect. Or wasting an entire morning watching wood being carved. What we want from our teacher is someone who uses a firm hand to teach our children to read and write, not to coddle those too poor or too backward to learn.” He took a step closer, using his height to force her to tip up her head to see his face. “Unless you stop filling our children’s heads with silly dreams of becoming whatever they want, you’ll find yourself on a train back to wherever you came from.”

Fiona could feel her cheeks burning, which only added to her discomfort. She could see Flem and Rose standing together, watching along with their neighbors. Then she spotted Frederick Dorf and his grandson, Luther, looking humiliated. That only firmed her resolve not to back down.

“I was hired to be a teacher to all the children of this town, Mr. Rudd. Not just to those you deem worthy.”

“You were hired, Miss Downey, because the town was desperate for a teacher. There’s been no one in that school in three long years.” He looked her up and down with contempt, then turned so that everyone could hear. “And I say we were better off with no teacher than with one of your kind.”

He yanked his son by the shoulder and started away, only to find the path barred by Gray.